


The Secret Invention of Tony Stark

by AssistedRealityInterface



Category: Captain America, Iron Man - Fandom, Marvel
Genre: AU, Borrowers - Freeform, M/M, Romance, Tony is tiny and collects things, and that's all you need to know
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-21
Updated: 2013-05-19
Packaged: 2017-12-09 01:36:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 16,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/768455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AssistedRealityInterface/pseuds/AssistedRealityInterface
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve moves into his grandmother's house after her death with his friend Bucky, expecting only to make a name for himself as an artist in the little nearby town. Neither he or Bucky, however, expected the other person living in the house with them; a small fairy-like creature who goes by the name of Tony Stark. Tony has more goals that simply borrowing their supplies and befriending their cat, however; he wants to get big, and he's going to find a way to do it no matter what.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is based on a series of pictures by dyingforheroism on tumblr! Since I suck ass at hyperlinks, here; http://dyingforheroism.tumblr.com/post/44059519331/the-borrower-tony-inspired-by-this-animation  
> and that sort of kicked off a 'hey what if' scenario from there. I also really like Ghibli, so...it happened.  
> Anyways, this is short and fluffy! Very little sadness, honest! It's cute and sweet and happy all the way to the core, and I really hope you like it!

The pickup truck trundled its way up the winding hill in a slow, easy rattle, carrying the two men inside and all their supplies as best as it could given its age, bringing them to the house upon the hill.

The sea sparkled beneath them, surrounding the quaint little town the house overlooked; the town beneath was like an expanse of little white shells on the beach, pale dots that clustered around the deep, vivacious blue of the beach.

"So," the first man, a scruffy brunette with a smear of engine oil on his cheek called over the rattle of the engine, "you're really making us move here, huh, Steve?"

"You weren't happy in the city, and neither was I," Steve told him, running a hand through his blond hair and sighing. "Gran left me the house in her will, and I certainly wasn't turning down a completely furnished house with all the mortgage paid off already. Not considering we lived in an apartment without a kitchen, Bucky."

"It's not like either of us cooked anyway, but I see your point," Bucky agreed. "No big, Steve. We'll get something set up here; when we were driving up, I noticed they didn't have a mechanic. Might be my chance to set up shop, huh?"

"Here's hoping," Steve said with a laugh. "Not much chance of me making much as an artist no matter where we are, but at least out here I might be inspired. And hey, there's schools, I could teach."

"That's the spirit," Bucky said, satisfied. "So, who's gonna cook tonight, you or me?"

"Eh...how about takeout?" Steve asked as they pulled up to the house, killing the truck engine and taking the keys out of the ignition. Bucky laughed.

"Right, right. We're off to a great start with the kitchen we definitely needed," he teased. Steve glared at him and got out of the truck, grabbing his duffel bags of art supplies before walking up the pathway to the porch.

He had been here before a few times, when he was young; during the summer his parents would let him stay here, and he would live with his grandmother as she taught him how to paint and draw, and tell him stories. It had been peaceful, and Steve had always held fond memories of the place.

It was a bit more weathered than he remembered, the paint a bit chipped, the floorboards a bit creakier, but paint could be re-done and creaky floors were part of the charm.

Besides, there was something _special_ about the house; something comforting and warm about its dusty sweet smells, its high arched walls and multiple bookshelves, coupled with the plush furniture and spacious rooms.

"Well, she must've liked you a lot, to leave you a place like this," Bucky remarked, quirking an eyebrow as he brought their bags in. Steve nodded.

"Yes, she did. I loved her too. I'm glad we got to keep her house; I feel like my parents would just sell it, you know?" Steve said.

"Probably," Bucky agreed. "But that's why we're here, Steve."

"Mhm. You can stay down here; go through the kitchen and see if we can keep any of the food, or if it's all expired. I'll go put our stuff up in the bedrooms; I know where they all are. You want one with a bay window?" Steve asked, grabbing their bags off the floor and heading for the stairs.

"Yeah, sure!" Bucky called back as Steve climbed the steps, heading upstairs.

...

Tony perked up, hearing the sound of footsteps, and immediately frowned. Footsteps in his hallway? Not fair! This was _his_ house now, gran had said!

He huffed, clinging to his scrap of pastry and nibbling with a severe frown creasing his features. Not fair at all. This was his house now; he'd moved in before them. Besides, they were just gonna take all his stuff.

Still, he was a curious creature, and so Tony poked his head out of his little house, the space he had set up behind the dresser in the room for his box, and watched, curious, as the door opened and someone entered his room.

"It's still really nice in here," the man said, crossing the floor and putting his bags down. "Not even dusty yet. Should still open the windows, though..."

He opened the enormous bay windows and let the breeze come in; Tony watched as he smiled and inhaled the sweet spring air, content.

"There we go," the man said, satisfied. "Well, I guess this'll be my room. The view's great from here. No wonder gran used this bedroom!"

Tony yelped in shock. Another man? In _his_ bedroom? He would track dirt everywhere and leave it a mess!

The man tensed, and Tony hid back in his box, cringing.

"Oh? Huh. That's strange; thought I heard something," the man said. "Must've been my imagination."

He paused, before picking up a few of the bags he had put down on the floor. "Should bring these into Bucky's room; he can have the room at the end of the hall, it's pretty big and the floor's hardwood, so all his machines won't mess up the carpet..."

Tony perked up as the man left. Machines? One of them had machines! He could use that, definitely. He just had to be incredibly careful, but then again, people were used to ignoring the things they didn't think they could see.

Tony grinned, cuddling underneath his little scrap of silk. He could do this! He just had to learn more about his new housemates first.

Deciding he would do that later, Tony curled up on his puff of cotton and closed his eyes, going to sleep as the cool breeze whispered over his box. The sun felt good, even if it was so bright...and really, so did the idea of some new housemates. Not that Tony would ever admit that.

...

"You're in the last bedroom on the left," Steve said, making his way downstairs and yawning. "Good with you?"

"Fine by me, yeah," Bucky said, putting the phone down with a click. "Called for takeout, by the way. It'll be here in a half hour."

"You're a lifesaver," Steve said with a grin. "Wanna go get unpacked?"

"Huh? Ah, yeah...I probably should. What're you gonna do?" Bucky asked, going for the stairs.

"Clean up down here," Steve said. "Did you get a list of stuff we needed?"

"Yeah, it's on the fridge!" Bucky called from the top of the stairs.

"All right! Then I'll run for groceries, too!" Steve called back. "We need gas?"

"Yeah," Bucky said, "wallet's on the counter. Fill Buddy up, okay?"

"Got it!" Steve promised, making his way outside and getting into the car, starting the pickup truck up and trundling out of the driveway, slowly ambling down the path and towards town, a few birds trailing along beside him as he drove.

...

Bucky was waiting for him on the porch with big white boxes of sloppy Chinese noodles when he got back; Steve beamed and got out of the car, carrying bags of groceries on both of his broad arms. Bucky waved him over with his chopsticks as he climbed the porch steps.

"Thought we could eat outside tonight," Bucky said. "You up for that?"

"Fine by me," Steve agreed with a smile. "Let me just go put the stuff that needs to go in the freezer inside quick."

He brought the bags inside and put them down, arranging the ice cream and vegetables in the fridge and freezer, putting his favorites on one side, Bucky's on the other. He made his way back outside again and sat down beside Bucky, taking a box of noodles and digging in.

"So, what're you gonna do, Steve?" Bucky asked. "'Bout a job, I mean."

"Well, the bills are paid for a few months, so I'm gonna try to find a gallery and see if I can get my art exhibited," Steve said. "Why don't we go into town tomorrow and try to find a garage you can work at, too?"

"Fine by me," Bucky agreed with a yawn. "I wanna explore this house a bit too, get my shit set up and all. Got a few side projects I'm workin' on."

"That's why you got the room without a rug," Steve said with a grin. Bucky threw a fortune cookie at him, and Steve just laughed, breaking it in half and proffering him one of the pieces.


	2. Shopping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve and Bucky eat dinner and make plans. Tony 'borrows' a few things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, this is being continued, sorry about that! I still don't know how to put an incomplete mark on a work, oops. Enjoy!

Bucky was waiting for him on the porch with big white boxes of sloppy Chinese noodles when he got back; Steve beamed and got out of the car, carrying bags of groceries on both of his broad arms. Bucky waved him over with his chopsticks as he climbed the porch steps.

"Thought we could eat outside tonight," Bucky said. "You up for that?"

"Fine by me," Steve agreed with a smile. "Let me just go put the stuff that needs to go in the freezer inside quick."

He brought the bags inside and put them down, arranging the ice cream and vegetables in the fridge and freezer, putting his favorites on one side, Bucky's on the other.

He made his way back outside again and sat down beside Bucky, taking a box of noodles and digging in.

"So, what're you gonna do, Steve?" Bucky asked. "'Bout a job, I mean."

"Well, the bills are paid for a few months, so I'm gonna try to find a gallery and see if I can get my art exhibited," Steve said. "Why don't we go into town tomorrow and try to find a garage you can work at, too?"

"Fine by me," Bucky agreed with a yawn. "I wanna explore this house a bit too, get my shit set up and all. Got a few side projects I'm workin' on."

"That's why you got the room without a rug," Steve said with a grin. Bucky threw a fortune cookie at him, and Steve just laughed, breaking it in half and proffering him one of the pieces.

...

Tony awoke to the sound of warm laughter and wrinkled his nose in distate. Ugh, unfair. He didn't want these people around!

But, still...it _would_ be interesting to go see them. They sounded like they were outside...

Tony got up and left his box after he grabbed his little grappling hook, climbing down the dresser and making his way across the floor, climbing up the side of the wall using the hook he had fashioned; fishing line and four blunted fish-hooks tied together. He stood on the sill and looked down with a frown. He couldn't see them from here; he'd have  to get nearer to the edge of the roof.

He made his way down carefully, inch by inch, until he could peek over the edge of the roof and look down at the two men sitting on the porch steps, talking and laughing as they ate.

The first man was a brunet with long, scruffy hair; he had an easy smile and the other man called him 'Bucky.' He had grease on his hands, Tony could see; he brightened up, pleased. This one had to be the engineer, he was sure of it.

The other one, though...

Tony watched him intently, curious. He was blond, and buff, and had big hands. Tony could curl up and fall asleep inside even one of them easily! And they were covered with paint...a lot of it, too. Tony could see blues and purples and oranges all smeared on his fingertips, even from the roof.

When he laughed, it made Tony's stomach twinge and he winced. He should stop laughing. It was doing strange things to him, and he hated it.

Tony took an acorn from the roof and chucked it down at him. Watching it fall onto the other man's head didn't make him feel better, though. He just felt sad now—even worse than before.

Tony frowned, frustrated, and threw his hands up, sitting down on the roof to watch the sunset. If he was listening eagerly to the two men chattering down on the porch as the sun sank beneath the line of the horizon, he didn't admit it to himself.

...

Steve and Bucky eventually parted ways when the night had taken full sway over the skyline, climbing into bed after a long day. Steve dropped his clothes as he walked, unaware of the tiny blushing man who watched him from his box. He could poke his head out from underneath the dresser and observe the man, and so he did, curious.

He was, well, very well-muscled...and his tan was pretty nice, too. He still hadn't washed the paint off his hands, either, and now that Tony could see his whole upper body, he noticed there were paint spatters on the most random of places; his shoulder, his chest, his upper arm, and one, inexplicably, on his hip bone.

Tony hid his face in his arms and shook his head. Steve was intruding on _his house_! He _refused_ to think one of the intruders was cute!

Still, as Steve yawned and climbed into bed, snuggling up beneath the covers, Tony watched his sleeping face for a few minutes longer than was necessary to make sure he was asleep. He sighed before climbing out of his box and creeping away from the dresser, going to scout around and look at the mechanical supplies that the other man had mentioned having before, when they were talking on the porch.

Tony hummed, content, and made his way down the hall as the moonlight shone silver on the carpets. He smiled, pleased; the house was still beautiful, even with these new people underfoot. Hopefully they wouldn't be too noisy. Tony hated when big humans got loud and noisy; it made his box shake!

He huffed and crept closer to the last door on the left, peeking his head in. The other man—Bucky, Tony corrected himself—had fallen asleep haphazardly on the bed, his leg hanging off and his tummy showing beneath his stomach as he snored. Tony laughed despite himself as he crept into his room, curious as to what secrets it might hold.

Tony was not disappointed; there was already an open toolbox on the floor, and plenty of scrap metal in a bag near the closet. A spool of copper wire beckoned to him, inviting and shiny in the dim moonlight.

Tony's eyes lit up, and he scampered over to the toolbox with a grin on his face, climbing up and gathering a length of the wire for himself, scraping it against the sharp edge of a scrap of metal until it split. He dragged it away, along with a few pieces of metal, humming in content triumph as he brought the pieces back to his box. It served them right for living in his house. Besides, he wouldn't notice. It was only some wire and metal.

Tony looked around at Steve's things, curious. Then he sniffed, displeased. Just paint and paper? Silly, in his opinion. What was all that worth? Wasn't much you could do with art.

Tony shrugged and shook his head. He would never understand big humans.

He went downstairs, his stomach growling as he did. Eating at night had its perks, but making the trip up and down the steps was a bit of a pain, he had to admit. Thankfully, he had been here long enough to tunnel around the stairs...but he had to be careful and cover up the hole, or the humans might spackle over it, like it was a mousehole of some kind!

Tony huffed, offended by the very thought as he crept down through the little tunnel. Mice? As if he was so simple and silly as a few common mice!

He was still grumbling about it as he made his way into the kitchen, but his complaining stopped in short order when he saw his prize; the humans had left the takeout boxes on  the counter. It was much easier to get there than to the fridge!

In short order, Tony was heading back upstairs with a fortune cookie, some rice, and a few noodles, all packed in the hollow doughy shell of a dumpling. He hummed, content, as he brought it back to his box, settling in and nibbling on his treats.

He looked out at the window and debated going outside. Perhaps not; it had been a big day, and he was so full now...

Tony hummed, content, and fell asleep, closing his eyes and yawning widely as he laid his head down on his fluff of cotton, pulling his blanket over himself and going back to sleep.


	3. Kittens and Mice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys get a kitten! Tony takes a few things and the boys get curious.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was the closest I was going to get to a Jarvis reference, so there you go. Enjoy!

When the two men awoke the next morning, neither of them noticed anything amiss until Bucky went to check his toolbox.

"Aw, Steve," he said with a frown as he entered his friend's room, half-dressed and a toothbrush sticking out of his mouth, "I think we have mice."

Tony awoke to those words and puffed up in rage immediately _. Mice!_ They thought his engineering was the work of _mice!_

"In a house like this? No surprise," Steve said. "Don't worry about it, Bucky. We can live with them as long as they're not eating our food."

Tony looked down at the few stray grains of rice from the night before and frowned. 

"Did they take your wire? I think not!" Bucky said, gesturing to the spool of copper wire in his hand. "Look, it's all rough around the edges!"

Steve laughed, getting up and pulling his pants on; Tony blushed and looked away as he did.

"Wire? What would mice want with your wire, Bucky?" He asked. "Don't be so ridiculous. You probably just did a bad job of cutting it or something."

"I know there are mice here," Bucky said, "and I'm gonna prove it, I promise."

"Okay, okay. Let's just go into town, see what we can see," Steve said. "C'mon, we've got a lot to do today..."

Tony watched them both leave the room and sighed, relieved. He climbed out onto the rooftop after a few moments of catching his breath, just in time to watch them drive away.

He huffed, seeing them trundle contentedly down the path that led into town. _Mice._ He was going to leave tacks in Bucky's shoes or something for _that_ remark.

Tony got up with a sigh, heading down to Bucky's room for more scrap metal. He'd gotten all the copper wire he would need for awhile, but he could use some more metal...and silver, actually, if one of them had a silver chain. Gran had given him some, but it wasn't enough to build what he needed!

Tony frowned, rifling through Bucky's bag carefully. Nothing stuck out as silver...he had to find just a bit! Only a few scraps!

Tony thought with a quiet hum. Gran's silverware was real silver, she'd told him. The boys wouldn't miss a fork or two, would they?

Tony made his way downstairs, heading back into the kitchen and enjoying the quiet peace of the house while he could. With these two around, he had a feeling it wouldn't last...

...

"You're ridiculous," Steve said as they stood in the pet store, staring down a few bags of cat food and a pack of toys. 

"Not my fault someone left a kitten on the side of the road, now is it?" Bucky demanded. "What, you were just gonna _leave him_ there?"

"No, but you just want something for the mice, don't lie," Steve said with a huff. "Admit it."

"Well, he'll certainly help," Bucky said, supporting the sleeping kitten in his arm. "Maybe when he's a bit older." 

He huffed and grabbed another can of food. "Besides...we never had room for a pet in the city. This little guy fell right into our laps; why don't we take the chance we got?"

"I thought you liked dogs," Steve said, taking the food as Bucky carried the kitten up to the counter. Steve set their purchases down as the cashier rung them up and Bucky hummed.

"Well," he said after a moment's consideration, "dogs are nice, but this little guy needs a home, so there you have it. He'll fit in just fine at home, so long as he doesn't go near my room. Poor guy is not getting _anywhere_ near the machines."

"Oh, you're a mechanic?" The girl at the counter said, making them both jump. 

"Yeah," Bucky said, amused. "Hey, pretty lady. What's it to you?"

"There's a garage down the street that's looking for a new mechanic. I know the lady that runs it; tell her Sharon sent you," the girl said. "Oh, and this little guy's gonna need formula, too. He's just a bit over two months, from the look of him."

"Right, ring that up too," Steve said. "Oh, and thank you for the advice, ma'am. Happen to know anything about whether or not the town has a gallery around?"

"There's a little cafe down near the beach that features local artists all the time; tell them you're new and I'm sure they'll be interested!" She said. "It's nice to meet you, by the way."

"Steve Rogers," he introduced himself. "This is Bucky Barnes. And the little guy here is..." 

He hesitated for a minute, considering.

"We'll call him something later," Bucky said, amused. "Thanks for the tip, ma'am."

"No trouble! Good luck setting yourselves up, boys!" She said as they left. 

"What _are_ we gonna call him?" Steve asked, looking down at the cat.

"Honestly, I dunno," Bucky said. "He's nothing out of the ordinary; just a little tabby...but Tiger's kind of stupid."

"Yeah, a bit," Steve agreed. "How about Jarvis?"

"Oh, and Tiger was so much worse," Bucky teased. Steve stuck out his tongue.

"Nah, though, he looks like a Jarvis, as much as anything can look like a Jarvis," Bucky said. "Jarvis it is."

"All right, fine by me," Steve replied. "I'll buy the collar, since I named him."

"Done," Bucky agreed with a laugh as they drove off.

...

When they arrived home that night, the two of them were in a very good mood; Bucky had an interview for tomorrow, and Steve was bringing his work in next week. 

"So, a good start, then," Steve said, satisfied, as he put Jarvis down on the couch, setting a plate of formula down before him. Jarvis lapped it up with a few squeaks as Steve ran a  thumb down his back and put his new collar on.

"Most definitely," Bucky agreed with a yawn. "We'll be making our way in a week, Steve. You'll see."

He nodded, pleased, as the two dug in for dinner. Reheated takeout and a few apples were placed on the table, and they ate before checking the clock and sighing.

With a yawn, Steve got up and took Jarvis off the couch, wrapping him in a blanket and putting him into a shoebox. Bucky headed upstairs; Steve followed after him, going up the steps and turning on the lights.

From within his box, Tony grimaced. He nibbled on his grain of rice and grumbled, looking up at Steve as he got dressed for bed. He looked out at the window and smiled, content.

"Gonna have to go paint outside tomorrow," he said. "Should really get some local pieces done..."

Tony harrumphed, letting the other man get into bed and fall asleep without looking at him. An artist? He actually thought he was an artist? True art was machinery, building— _that_ was creation, not slapping paint onto some canvas!

Tony shrugged, settling into his box. He'd let himself nap for an hour before going downstairs. 

When he stirred again, he looked around. Steve was soundly asleep. Tony grinned, relieved, and grabbed his grappling hook before leaving his home, crawling beneath the dresser to get out of the room. 

He made his way into Bucky's room; he only took a few scraps of metal, just so the other man would have time to calm down over the copper wire. He made his way out of the room, put them back into his box, and crept slowly down the stairs. 

Tony climbed up to the kitchen drawers and grabbed a silver fork, making his way back down and towards the fridge. He opened it with the hook, tugging it open and making his way in, getting himself a little carton of milk, a half of a doughnut that had been left in the cheese drawer, and a package of apple slices. 

Tony hummed, content, as he climbed back out of the fridge again, making his way down to the floor and climbing across the tile.

He was stopped by a kitten.

The kitten mewed. Tony tensed. Even this tiny, the cat could easily claw him up, and bad.

"...Hey, little fella," Tony said. "You hungry?"

The kitten nosed him so hard he fell over. Tony winced, proffering the kitten the carton of milk. The kitten mewed. Tony nodded, opening it up and sticking the spoon in, tilting it out while it was full of milk and placing it on the floor. The kitten lapped it up, purring. Tony stroked its back, scratching behind his ears. 

"Jarvis?" Tony said, checking the collar. The kitten mewed. Tony grinned. 

"Okay, Jarvis," he said. "I can work with that. Jarvis, are you a good boy?" 

The kitten nuzzled him, purring loud enough to make Tony shake with the vibrations. Tony smiled. He'd always liked cats. He had reason to be nervous around them, sure—but, if he was lucky, not for long. 

Tony rubbed beneath his neck and followed the kitten back into the living room. He helped Jarvis into the little box full of blankets that compromised his home.

"Okay, kitty-cat," Tony said gently. "Goodnight."

He went to leave; a pitiful, plaintive mew stopped him. Tony sighed, turning around to look at Jarvis poking his head above the box, looking at him intently.

"...Kitty-cat, I can't..." He sighed, thinking. There were blankets. He could hide if they came to check on the kitten. 

He looked down at his food and frowned. "One sec, kitty-cat."

He demolished his food easily enough, eating until his tummy ached. He went upstairs quickly, putting the leftovers into his box along with the spoon before making his way downstairs again and climbing into Jarvis' box, cuddling up next to the kitten. Jarvis threw a paw over him and nuzzled his cheek, purring in utter contentment. 

Tony rubbed his back and closed his eyes, yawning widely as Jarvis licked his cheek, moving onto his hair and washing it as Tony grumbled, nuzzling into his chestfluff. A cat that didn't attack him was nice...but a cat that wouldn't groom him obsessively would be nice, too.

Still, it was warm, and Jarvis was purring. He could work on his reactor later, after the cat chose to let him go.

Tony closed his eyes and smiled, leaning into his fluff and letting Jarvis gently lick him until the two of them fell asleep together in the blankets.


	4. Doughnut Trap

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky has a cunning plan. Tony's stomach is decidedly less so.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The plot, it thickens! Also, Tony is pretty heavy on the tsun-tsun in this chapter, woops.

"Someone ate my goddamn donut!"

"Bucky, for god's sake," Steve said into his pillow.

"No, Steve! That was _my donut!_ Do you know how _excited I was_ for that donut? _Really excited_ , Steve! And now it's _gone_!"

Steve looked up to see Bucky holding a half-eaten donut in his fist, almost vibrating with rage. He sighed heavily and shook his head, sitting up in bed.

"It's not even eaten all the way. You probably took a bite of it last night and forgot," he said.

"There's other stuff missing from the fridge, too. Something's getting into our cabinets, Steve—and my scrap metal, too. Some of the wire's still going missing, too! I can't take it anymore!" Bucky said, storming downstairs. "I want to go back to the city!"

"Cockroaches the size of our fists or a couple of mice, Bucky, you take your pick!" Steve yelled down the steps after him, getting out of bed to get dressed.

"Whatever, whatever!" Bucky yelled back up. "I just hope Jarvis deals with it, and soon..."

...

Downstairs, Jarvis was dealing with the problem very thoroughly by licking the 'borrower' in question awake. 

Tony grumbled and stirred, before suddenly seeing the sun and realizing how late in the morning it was. He started, making his way out of the blankets and rubbing behind Jarvis' ears one more time before scrabbling frantically upstairs and hiding away in his house before either one of the other men could see him.

This ended up being more trouble than Tony knew; if he had waited another few minutes, he would've heard Bucky say, "You know, Steve, I've got an idea..." and realized just what he was in for.

...

For a week, though, not much happened. Steve had convinced Bucky to wait before taking any action, and so he did; however, when the metal kept disappearing and food kept being taken from the fridge and cabinets, Bucky's annoyance won out.

"Not real mousetraps, though," Steve begged. "Please, just, I don't know—a donut under a box?"

"We have a bell jar that could work," Bucky replied. "And I can make a pulley and tripwire system by tonight..."

Steve nodded in agreement. Bucky grinned, relieved. "All right, then! We'll catch them and let them go, if that makes you happy."

"Yes, I suppose that's fair," Steve agreed. "They've been taking our coffee grinds, too. I think I have to draw the line there."

"Hell yeah we do," Bucky said, going to get the bell jar and humming in triumph. Steve just chuckled, amused, and went to go sit out on the porch to paint, Jarvis toddling after him so he could join him.

When Steve sat with his canvas and got ready to paint, he frowned. Some of his paint was missing...not much, but the palette he'd used yesterday and covered up to keep using those colors had most of the paint scraped off of it. 

He hoped the mice were okay—if it was even mice, at this point. He didn't know what else it could be, though, so he simply re-mixed colors and hoped that the paints weren't being eaten.

...

Tony frowned, smearing paint over the side of his house. It was dumb, he knew it. Art was a ridiculous, stupid... _Steve_ was ridiculous, stupid, pretty and sweet and didn't want to catch him in a mousetrap...

Okay, so maybe that sentence hadn't ended the way he had wanted it to. No matter. The paint...actually looked nice on his walls. It brightened up the box a bit.

Tony smeared with with more determination, a frown on his face as he painted in the lines and huffed, painting a shooting star across the wall idly before turning back to his work.

Well, he had all day to build his project and nap—he ought to get to work!

Tony set in on the arc reactor with a determined huff, working away so diligently he didn't even notice Steve occasionally wandering in and out, or even when he came in at one point and undressed for a shower. He had his priorities, and at that moment, the big human wasn't one of them.

Eventually, though, he had everything in place and he felt confident in relaxing for long enough to nap. He had a lot to gather up tonight! 

Tony looked at the wall, considering, as he pulled a scrap of silk over himself, settling in on his cotton puff. 

Maybe he'd take some paint, too. 

You know. Because.

...

When Tony opened his eyes again, the sun was shining a bright, rich orange, the sky shimmering gold and purple and deep, rich blue around it, the clouds floating aimlessly around it illuminated in passing.

He grumbled, getting up to continue his work on the reactor until the two men went to bed. Tony considered that he wasn't internally referring to them as intruders anymore and cringed. He'd have to work on that.

Eventually, he looked up; Steve was humming as he walked in, dropping his clothes as he went. 

"I hope the mice are okay..." He mused aloud. "I'd feel awful if the trap hurt them..."

He sighed, fluffed his pillow, and curled up, laying on the bed with only a thin sheet to shield him from the summer breeze. 

Tony tsked. What did he expect? They were crazy metal contraptions meant to snap necks. No good at stopping him, though! 

He hummed, content, as he heard Bucky come up the stairs as well, closing his door; he stopped doing it the second he realized he had been humming the same song Steve had been humming to himself not moments ago.

It was catchy, that was all.

Tony huffed and made his way down the stairs, heading towards the kitchen. Jarvis ran up to him, mewing in delight and licking his cheek. Tony grinned, rubbing behind his ears. Jarvis purred, his whole body wriggling with delight as he let Tony pet him.

"Hey, kitty-cat," Tony greeted him, his voice soft and easy with affection. "You got something to eat, right?"

Jarvis mewed, padding over to his food bowl and nibbling at some of the kitten chow that Steve and Bucky had bought. Tony sighed, relieved. 

"Right, good. Speaking of, I could use some food myself..." He said, looking around. 

The donut on the counter was probably too good to be true, and he should have, quite frankly, known better. Still; his stomach growled insistently, and it was chocolate with strawberry frosting. Tony only possessed so much self-restraint.

He climbed up to the counter, happily plunked himself down on the plate, and took the donut in his hands to eat it.

The bell jar came down on him with a sharp snap, and that was about the point Tony realized that this was all probably a very bad idea on his part.

He tested the glass—no luck. It was thick, and attached to wire, so he couldn't move it without falling to the floor in a sea of glass. Not a good idea. 

He ran a hand through his hair in frustration. He would just have to make a break for it as soon as they lifted the lid—maybe they would just assume they were seeing things. Most humans did.

From beneath him, Jarvis meowed, despondent. It took a few tries, but eventually, the kitten came up to the counter, lying down beside the bell jar and curling up next to him.

The cat's love and concern made Tony smile. No one had cared about him that much since, well...ever. Except for maybe gran. It was a good feeling, and not one he was used to, honestly.

"Thanks, kitty-cat," he said, putting his fingers against the glass. Jarvis just purred.

Tony looked back at the doughnut and sighed. He might as well just eat the thing, now that was here until morning...

Using the napkin the donut had been placed on as both a pillow and a blanket by shredding some of the tissue, Tony settled in to eat his donut.

But he most certainly was _not_ happy about it.

...Even if it _was_ incredibly delicious.


	5. The Trap

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony meets some new friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, it finally happens! They go along with it pretty well, but then again, seeing is believing. And Tony is appropriately disdainful of Steve's art, heh.

Steve didn't know what he expected to find when he went downstairs in the morning for his coffee, but it certainly wasn't a pouting little man sitting beneath the bell jar.

The fact that it was about the last thing he'd ever expected allowed him a sort of freedom to accept it and carry on as if it was normal.

"...Good morning," he said. "You can talk, can't you?"

The man started violently before turning to look at him, wide-eyed. Steve didn't lift the bell jar; he knew the second he did, the man would bolt.

"Well?" He cajoled him.

"...Yeah," the man mumbled. "I'm not a mouse."

Steve laughed. "I can see that. You're certainly more chatty. And more clever, I assume. What would a mouse want with scrap metal?"

The man softened up a bit at that, preening. Steve grinned. An egoist. Talk about a Napoleon complex...

"Nothing, because they're stupid," he said. "I like your cat, though. Even if you're intruding, the cat was a nice touch."

"So much for being a mouser," Steve remarked, rubbing behind Jarvis' ears. "Wait—intruders? _We're_ intruders? You've been stealing our stuff!"

"Because you moved into _my house!"_ The man said, puffing himself up. "Besides, I didn't take much! I only took some matchsticks, some coffee, some metal and wire, and a spoon!"

"And the doughnut," Steve said, gesturing to the crumbs. He huffed.

"Well yeah, I needed to eat," he said. "This is my house, and you're hogging all the space!"

" _Your_ house? What do you _mean_ , yours? This was my gran's place!" Steve protested. "She gave it to me when she died!"

"Wait—what? Camilla was _your_ grandmother? _You're_ Stevie?" The man said, incredulous. "Wow, you're a lot more buff than she told me."

Steve blushed, grumbling about the nickname. The man giggled at his obvious embarrassment.

"So, not a fan of the name, then," he said.

"How do you know my gran?" Steve said, changing the subject. He yawned, sitting back down on the plate.

"I used to live in the woods with everyone else like me, but I ran away and came here. She took me in, and let me use her things so I could build what I needed," he explained.

"Why did you run away?" Steve asked, kneeling down and looking him in the eye. Tony huffed, secretly touched.

"I wanted to make myself big," he said. "Nobody else was okay with that, so it was a mutual 'get out' thing."

"I see," Steve replied. "Okay, fair enough. Is that why you've been taking our things?"

"Yeah! I'm building an arc reactor! If I hook it up and give it enough energy, I think it might just give me what I need to get big!" He said. Steve nodded.

"Okay, then that...well, you'll still have to explain that to Bucky, but I guess I understand," he said. "You certainly couldn't come out and ask us."

He paused for a second, contemplative. "Hey—what about the paint? You didn't need that, did you?"

He blushed, looking away. It was Steve's turn to laugh, amused. 

"Painted my house with it," Tony mumbled. "Thought it would look nice."

"I'm sure it does. I'd like to see it sometime," Steve said, his voice warm.

He lifted up the bell jar and profferred Tony his finger.

"Steve Rogers," he said. "Pleasure."

Tony took his finger and felt it pulse with blood and life; the first time he had touched another person since Camilla went away.

"Tony Stark," he said. "Hi."

"Hi, yourself," Steve said, giving him a warm smile. "We've got some things to work out, but I think we can definitely make this work—"

Bucky, master of amazing timing, took that moment to storm into the kitchen and announce, "Did we get the fuckin' mouse, or what?"

Steve reacted on instinct more than anything; he yanked Tony close, holding him in his hand and cupping him against his chest.

Tony squeaked, confronted by a sudden wall of warm, firm darkness. The other man's chest was unfairly buff and broad, in his opinion.

He hadn't thought he would appreciate this—he'd never let Camilla pick him up, it was so undignified—but he felt...safe? He actually felt...nice. Steve's hand was so big, and Tony had never been aware of how tiny he was until Steve cupped him in one huge hand.

"Steve, what the _fuck_ was that," Bucky said, wide-eyed. "Please, please tell me this is just pre-coffee hallucinations or some shit. That was not just a...tiny person-thing."

"He's not a thing!" Steve defended him, still holding him protectively against his chest. "His name is Tony, and—"

He stopped, looking down at Tony and wincing apologetically. "Er, was I supposed to tell him that...?"

"Well, it's a little late now, isn't it?" Tony grumbled. "And could you let me up?"

Steve did so, but he was still holding Tony in his hand, his fingers arching so Tony could sit against them. Tony looked up at him and Bucky, who was looking over Steve's shoulder at him incredulously.

"Shit, that's insane," he said. "He's not a mouse, then."

"I most certainly am not," Tony confirmed. "Sorry about taking all your metal and wire, by the way. I'm trying to build an arc reactor, so I can get big!"

"Oh, well," Bucky shrugged. "That's a noble cause, I guess. But man, how long is it gonna take you?"

"...I dunno," Tony admitted with a sigh. "If you want, you can see it when I wake up—you're a mechanic, right?"

"Sure am," Bucky said. "Anything else you need for the project, you just tell me."

"Huh. You're accepting this very well," Steve said, shooting him a look. Bucky shrugged.

"Man, my surprise glands are all dried up. I mean, look at him. He's a tiny little person! With tiny little hands and stuff! Like...I'm done. It's only nine in the morning, and I'm done," Bucky said.

"Just make your coffee," Steve said, amused. "Now, what was that about bed?"

"Yeah, I usually sleep for most of the morning; afternoon and night is more my thing, time-wise," Tony said with a yawn. Steve nodded.

"Good; we usually operate on that schedule, too," he said with a smile. "How about we go upstairs and you can get some shut-eye before we sort this all out?"

"I can go myself," Tony grumbled. Steve just lightly ran a pinky through his hair, making Tony tense.

"But it's a long walk up the steps, and we kept you up all night," he apologized. "C'mon, let me make it up to you, please?"

Tony huffed, but he couldn't get out of Steve's touch anyway, and...his hand was very warm.

"Fine," he huffed, trying to look like it didn't bother him as he snuggled up in Steve's hand. "I'm not a cat, though. You don't have to pet me."

"Oh, I'm sorry," Steve said, his face red. "You're just, uh...fascinating. I mean, really...pretty."

Tony snorted, closing his eyes and grinning, content. Steve carried him upstairs, redfaced.

"Behind the dresser in your room," Tony mumbled, already falling asleep. "Don't worry. I didn't watch you shower or whatever."

"Oh, uh...okay," Steve said, pushing the dresser out a bit with one hand, far enough to see the wooden box that functioned as Tony's home. He placed him with tender care onto the cotton fluff in the corner, then covered him with the silk scrap on the floor. 

"Goodnight, Tony," Steve murmured gently. "It was so good to meet you. See you in a bit."

Tony actually gave him a tiny smile before falling asleep, snuggling in his cotton fluff. Steve watched him for a minute before going back downstairs to Bucky sitting at the table, drinking coffee.

"He's like, six inches tall," was all he said. Steve's face went red.

"Leave me alone," he muttered, rifling through the fridge.

...

The day passed easily enough; Steve set up his canvas outside and continued where he had left off yesterday. He painted with easy, careful strokes, his heart surprisingly light and making his hand move freely. It felt good to know what was going on in the house. But there was a question that now nagged at the back of his mind; gran knew? 

From the way Tony talked, he had known his gran personally, and interacted with her. She had known about a little man living in her house and never mentioned it to Steve? 

He would be hurt, if he didn't understand how hard it was to believe; he wouldn't have accepted it if he hadn't seen Tony in the flesh himself. He hadn't been back to visit since moving to the city; Tony must've been a recent addition to the house. 

Steve continued to paint, still thinking. So, gran knew. Maybe her library had some information on what Tony was, exactly, and how to help him meet his goal. Steve couldn't help but think of what a full-sized Tony would be like; no longer small enough to hold, but big enough to hold his hand without hurting him, or stroke his hair with more than a finger...or kiss him, or touch him...

Steve shook that thought off as quickly as he could, his face red. He wasn't going to think about that, not ever. Tony was a friend he was helping out, that was all.

He continued to paint for awhile longer, content in his knowledge that he had a goal in mind. For a few hours, he remained relatively uninterrupted, but that, of course, never lasted.

"Hey! Your art's really pretty," a voice said, startling him midstroke. "I wasn't expecting that, but it is."

"I, uh...I'm flattered," Steve said, turning around to see Tony sitting on the porch, worrying open a sunflower seed. "Would you like me to crack that for you?"

"Please," Tony said, proferring it to him. "And can I have a closer look?"

"Sure," Steve replied, taking both Tony and the seed into his hand, letting Tony climb up to his shoulder as he sat back down in front of his canvas. He opened up the sunflower seed, mindful of any splinters that could hurt Tony, and let him examine the painting in detail.

"Hmm," Tony said, considering. "Some of your brushstrokes are off. That'll make the painting really weird-looking."

"That's kind of the point, Tony," Steve said. "It's not supposed to look photorealistic. I'm trying for some Impressionist shots of the landscapes. Realistic isn't necessarily artistic."

"Yeah, but art is like a machine; all the pieces have to fit together and do what they're meant to, or the whole thing will be broken!" Tony protested. Steve laughed.

"Maybe for some work, but the best artists, in my opinion, barely even look at the instruction manuals for their machines. Cheesy as it sounds, it's all about passion, Tony; refining and manipulating that passion is part of it, but art is about doing, and being, and creating. That's the stuff of life. To change anything about our lives, we have to create," Steve said.

"...I guess," Tony said, though he didn't look entirely convinced. "I wouldn't feel too bad, Steve. Nothing can measure up to my arc reactor in terms of precise perfection."

"I bet not," Steve agreed. "You can sit and stay if you'd like. I'm almost done with this canvas; it's my last one before the art show."

"You're going to be in an art show? Cool," Tony said, settling in on his shoulder. "So...you and Bucky are staying here, then? Sure sounds like it."

"We'd love to," Steve said with a warm smile. "So long as we're not, you know, intruding."

Tony blushed, shaking his head. "No, you're not. Really, I promise. I'm sorry, I didn't know gran sent you!"

"It's all right. I'd have been worried about people I didn't know showing up at my home, too," Steve agreed. Tony nodded.

"It was a bit scary," he agreed, "but you're both pretty great people, so I'm fine now. I mean, I want you to see the reactor, so I figure that's a big deal."

"I'm glad," Steve promised. "When I'm done, we'll go in and have Bucky take a look at it, okay?"

"Okay," Tony agreed, letting Steve settle back down and continue working on his art.

After about another hour, Steve washed his brush for the last time and sighed, satisfied.

"How about we go get some dinner and you and Bucky take a look at the reactor?" Steve said. "I wouldn't be of much help, and I'd like to look through some of gran's books."

"Okay! Can we have Chinese? I really like Chinese," Tony said as they came inside, still sitting on Steve's shoulder. Steve grinned.

"Actually, I was going to take a shot at cooking. How's spaghetti sound?" He asked. Tony huffed, sighing dramatically and nuzzling into Steve's neck.

"Not as good as Chinese, but I'll survive, I suppose," Tony said. "You're really gonna let me eat with you?"

"Of course! Why wouldn't we?" Steve asked, raising an eyebrow as he made his way into the kitchen. Tony shrugged.

"Dunno. I mean, gran usually just let me eat when I was hungry on my own, we really didn't...like, she didn't tell me I couldn't, but..." Tony trailed off as Steve lightly stroked his hair with his pinky again. It felt too good. Steve really needed to stop doing that when he was trying to talk to him.

"It's all right," he said. "Things are different here. You're going to be our guest as much as we're yours. This can be our house, if you want."

"Even when I get big? What'll I do when I'm big, Steve?" Tony asked, worried. Steve laughed.

"Hey, if the arc reactor's that amazing, you'll sell it and we'll all move to Rio," he teased. "Don't worry. You're not going to have to leave here unless you want to."

"Well, I don't," Tony said. Steve smiled. Tony squirmed a bit, fidgeting with his hands, when that smile was turned and focused on him.

"Good," he murmured. "So, I take it you're up for spaghetti, then."

"It'll be the best dinner I've ever had," Tony said, watching as Steve started up the pot to boil.

...

The three of them ate together, Tony nibbling contentedly at a single noodle covered in sauce, a chunk of meatball sitting on his plate. It was a peaceful dinner; as long as Steve and Bucky were quiet, they could talk to Tony and hear him, especially if he sat on a book they put on the table. He chattered on about his projects, and the things he wanted to do when he was big—build more advanced devices, for one.

"I'm thinking I'll make the arc reactor the main energy source," Tony announced. "It's supposed to be a constant source of electricity; if we make some modifications, it might be more useful than lightbulbs!"

"Sure as hell would beat paying the electric bill," Bucky agreed. "I'd love to take a look at this thing, Tony. How long did it take you?"

"A few years," Tony admitted. "Ever since I moved in with gran. There's not a lot I can use out in the forest, but she was very helpful! She even bought me stuff when I needed it."

"Well, we're just shy of broke, but I'll see what I can do about pilfering scraps from the garage if you need them. How's that sound?" Bucky asked.

"Wonderful," Tony enthused. "Thank you! Finally, someone who understands machines!"

Bucky preened; Steve just rolled his eyes. Tony patted his finger, affectionate.

"Don't worry. When you're done flinging paint on your canvas, you can come and look at all the cool stuff in my lab," Tony said brightly.

"You're too kind," Steve said, his voice dry. Tony laughed.

"Oh, so you do have a sense of humor. Cute," he said.

"Yes, and a desire to 'fling paint at my canvas,' actually," Steve said. "You and Bucky go fuss over your arc reactor. I'll be outside, if you'd like to join me afterwards."

"Oh, uh, okay," Tony said. "Really?"

"Sure. You're welcome whenever you want to watch me paint," Steve offered with a warm smile. "I'm not used to an audience, but i don't think you'd be much fuss."

Tony gave him a small smile and nodded as he left. He was still watching the door Steve had walked out of when Bucky's voice jolted him out of his reverie.

"So, wanna take a crack at the reactor?" Bucky asked. 

"R-right," Tony said, letting Bucky help him off the table, sitting on the mechanic's shoulder and stealing one last glance at the door. Tony was so close to Bucky that he didn't notice the cheshire grin the other man wore at the sight of his red face as they climbed the steps.


	6. Impossible

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve reads up a bit. Tony shows off the reactor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is really the closest the story gets to sad, and by sad, I mean not really.  
> This is straight up fairy tale magic here, okay? We've checked logic at the door, I mean, Tony's like eight inches tall, so.  
> I'm sorry this chapter's so short; I figure the punch at the end is worth a short chapter. The updates will come a bit quicker now that I'm not scrambling to update AatA, I'm so sorry!

"So, you live in Steve's room, huh?" Bucky asked, amused. Tony nodded, not noticing what his tone implied, too lost in fiddling with moving the dresser using his pulley system.

"Yeah, it used to be his gran's. He moved in here, and I sure wasn't moving out. Now that he knows, I don't have to," Tony said, satisfied. "Anyways, come and look, it's in the next room..."

"Whoa," Bucky said, suitably impressed as the drawer was pushed back a bit and Tony's house was revealed. For something that was clearly entirely hand-built, it was constructed with a level of engineering skill Bucky hadn't anticipated. And, for that matter, it was pretty big. Small enough to hide under the dresser, sure, but big enough that it sprawled almost entirely underneath the length of the huge, squat dresser itself.

"Five rooms; one for all the things I've collected, one for all my lab supplies, one for me to sleep, one for any spare food or things like that, and my lab," Tony said, gesturing around. "Cool, huh?"

"Yeah," Bucky agreed. "Pretty impressive. Where's the reactor?"

Tony walked through the open doorway and into a room filled with whirring or glowing objects; he stood next to the one in the center, beaming.

"This is it," he said. "Takes up a lotta room, but that's okay! That's all I'm really working hard on anyway. See?"

"What're you gonna do with it when you try to make you, y'know..." Bucky gestured. "Not six inches tall."

Tony huffed, pointing to a chestpiece that lay connected to the reactor.

"I'm gonna put that on, and boot up the reactor. I'm hoping the energy inside it will spur me on to grow!" He said. "How's it look? Anything out of order?"

"Nothing that I can see," Bucky said, leaning in for a closer look. "Were you gonna try it out soon?"

"I was actually going to run a test before you two showed up," Tony said, heaving a sigh. "Not your fault, of course, but I planned on getting big before anyone might move in and I'd have to explain myself. Though at the rate it's going...I could be done by next week."

"Cool," Bucky said. "I think Steve's gallery show is next week, too."

"Then I'll do it the day after that," Tony decided. "I'll show him how great engineering is, I promise!"

"He's gonna try to get you to appreciate his art, I can tell you that," Bucky said, amused. "I think he likes you."

"He should, I'm great," Tony agreed, working on a few wires as Bucky laughed.

"No, I mean...he's impressed by you. Y'know, for leaving your home and doing what you wanted. He had to do the same thing, y'know? Wanted to be an artist even though his parents told him it was a bad idea, so he left his town after high school and came to the city. I followed him; he was a dumb kid, too big and too sweet. He'd get hurt without me," Bucky said, his eyes cloudy with reminiscing. "You know what that's like, right? To leave your whole world in pursuit of your dream."

"Yeah," Tony agreed, looking down at the reactor without really seeing it. He saw the smears of paint he had put on the walls instead. "I guess I do."

"Good," Bucky said. "So does Steve. And I think that's why he likes you."

"Oh," Tony mumbled. "Well...he's okay. He's got a nice smile."

"He does," Bucky agreed. "He's into dudes, you know. In case you were curious."

"I most certainly was not!" Tony said in a tone that told Bucky he was lying through his teeth.

"Well, okay. Just remember; he gets you better than you think. Now, feel up to making a few adjustments? Let me see the underside, I'll look at the wires," Bucky promised.

Tony did, and for awhile they worked together, Bucky adding input and aid where Tony couldn't reach. Even then, his mind wasn't entirely on it; he was consumed with thoughts of Steve, all of them tainted by guilt.

...

Steve sighed, chewing on the end of his paintbrush. He just couldn't paint tonight; everything he took a brush to looked ridiculous, the strokes too thick or the color a shade too deep.

He stood up, leaving his brushes in the cleaning solutions as he wiped off his hands. When he took the brushes out and placed them on the porch to dry in the sweet summer air, he looked up, an idea occurring to him as he looked through the window.

He could use a book to read, and gran had a whole room full of books. Maybe he'd just read tonight. He was sure he could get some peace and quiet out here while Bucky and Tony chattered upstairs.

Steve's stomach fluttered a bit at thinking of his name; he shook it off and traipsed up the other set of stairs, towards the other wing of the house. Not much was in it; the library, a dusty billiards room he suspected no one had used since his grandfather's death, and a study, equally dusty. He slipped into the library and looked around at all the shelves of books.

There were so many that as he spent a few minutes looking, all the titles began to blur. Then he saw something that made his eyebrows shoot right up into his hairline.  
 _"Creatures of the Forest: the Mysterious Borrowers,"_ he said, picking the book up and sitting down on one of the couches. "Is that what Tony is? And gran knew?"

It seemed she did; there were handwritten notes in all the margins, and even though it was his gran's handwriting, the words were all Tony.

Steve flipped through the book idly until he happened upon a chapter that had him reading every word.

 _"Being Big: How a Borrower Becomes Human,"_ Steve read out loud. _"'_ Most Borrowers are content to live in the forest and spend their lives collecting and hoarding whatever they can find. However...some do leave. Usually, those who leave, leave for love. Some Borrowers have fallen in love with humans, and that appears to be the number one cause for leaving their forests. Even those who do not leave specifically for love soon find it; whether it is because their passion for something more is so humanlike that they cannot help but find a human mate, or other powers at play, no one can tell. The main obstacle standing in their way is, of course, their size.'"

Steve frowned. Love? Tony had left for his dream. That was...well, that was amazing. Maybe he loved him a little for that. But Tony certainly didn't like him.

Still, he read on, curious. Maybe he could find some way to help Tony get bigger.

"'There is one solution. Borrowers are creatures of magic; an offshoot of the Fair Folk. Magic works when mixed with love, more powerful than any force in the world. When magic flows through the kiss of true love, a Borrower can use that power to do what it needs to do—which, in most cases like this, is make itself bigger, a suitable partner for the human they have chosen to love _,_ " Steve read.

True love's kiss. It would be ridiculous, something right out of a fairy tale, if Steve didn't suspect more and more that was exactly the sort of thing he was living out.

He sighed heavily and sat up, taking the book with him back up to his room. He could speak with Tony about it. Maybe he would have some idea about what else they could do; Steve knew he wouldn't get through to him, seeing as, written in the corner of the page that he had found the information on was one word.

_"'Impossible.'"_


	7. Art Show

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve and Tony talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so this one's a bit sad too, but nothing too bad, I promise. And cute fluff, I think!

Tony looked up, wide-eyed, to hear the sound of footsteps. Bucky had gone to go find some things from his own toolbox—now it was just him and Steve.

He climbed up the blanket and sat on the bed, waiting for him. Maybe they could talk, now that Tony understood him a bit better.

Steve opened the door and blinked, surprised.

"Oh, Tony," he said. "Er...hello. What're you doing on my bed?"

"Is it okay if I am? I just wanted to talk a bit," Tony replied. "Do you want to see the reactor too?"

"Sure," Steve said, going over to his house beneath the dresser. He smiled, impressed. "So, this is what you used my paint for? I guess it was worth it."

Tony's face reddened and he nodded.

"Yeah, it...it made it look nice," he agreed. "Thank you. I mean, not that you knew I borrowed it...but thanks."

"You're welcome," Steve said with a laugh as he knelt to examine the glowing circle. "This is it, huh? Sure is beautiful."

Tony preened. "Thank you. I told you; engineering can be beautiful!"

"So is the paint on your walls," Steve said with a small smile as he stood up, changing out of his shirt and shucking his pants, crawling onto the bed in an undershirt and boxers. "There's room for plenty kinds of beauty in this world, Tony. Don't forget that."

Tony huffed, but didn't argue further; he'd wanted to talk to Steve, not bicker.

"Anyways, I just...y'know, Bucky told me you moved to the city to be an artist," Tony said, looking up at him. "It hurt to leave, right?"

Steve got quiet.

"A bit," he said after a few moments' pause. "I didn't hate my parents. We just didn't see eye to eye. And it wasn't that I hated my hometown, either. There was just...no place for me anymore. I had to leave."

"Yeah, I know," Tony mumbled. "I mean, I never knew my dad. He left too, y'know? He left after he had me. Fell in love with some woman and left his kid. He didn't want me anyway. He'd never loved me, or my work. He wanted me to go."

"And you did," Steve murmured, laying down so he could look Tony in the eye. Tony snorted.

"Yeah, I did, but I sure as hell didn't do it for him!" He snapped. "I left to make myself better! I didn't need love to make me big!"

Steve sighed and didn't say anything, closing his eyes for a minute. He just let the other man sit across from him; he could feel Tony's hand, tiny and delicate, on his finger.

"Hey, did you fall asleep?" Tony asked. "You okay?"

"I'm fine, Tony," Steve said with a small smile. "I'm just thinking."

"Oh, okay. 'Bout what?" Tony asked again, leaning in closer.

"Nothing in particular," Steve replied. "I suppose I'm just concerned. What if your arc reactor doesn't work, Tony?"

"What? What are you _saying?_ I've put in so much work! All my heart went into that thing, Steve! Of _course_ it'll work! I won't let it _not_ work!" Tony snapped, falling back into his seat and bristling. Steve sighed, running a hand through his hair.

"Right, right. I know. My little egotistical engineer," he said, his voice warm and full of love. It soothed Tony enough to lower his glower onto the level of a pout.

"If...if it doesn't," Steve hedged, hesitant, "and believe me, I can see how hard you've worked, I want it as much as you do...but if it doesn't, I was reading this book, and..."

"Oh, no. Absolutely not! I'm not kissing anyone! I _refuse!_ " Tony said, crossing his arms. "I mean, kissing someone would just prove them right! It would—it would make me like my dad, you know? He left, and I would just..."

"No," Steve murmured quietly, putting his finger out to stroke lightly at Tony's hair. "I don't think it would do that, Tony. Not to you. Your father didn't leave because he loved you. It hurts, I know it hurts. But you won't hurt anyone if you do the same."

"Well, what if—what if I don't have anyone in my heart, Steve?" Tony snapped.

"Then I'm sorry," he replied.

Tony was quiet for a long time after that, looking away with his hands in his lap.

"I want it to work really bad, Steve," Tony said, his voice soft and tiny.

"I know, Tony," Steve murmured. "I do too. But if it doesn't, I just...don't want you to lose hope. There's always another way."

"Not for me," Tony said, his voice quiet. "Look, I..."

"It's okay. You've told me all you can. I don't need you to hurt yourself dragging it out anymore," Steve promised him. "How about we just stay here? You don't need to go yet, if you don't want to."

Tony was silent for a little while.

Then he nodded, letting Steve turn the light off and curling up near the other man with a sigh.

"Goodnight," he said. "See you in the morning. I'm gonna be busy, okay? Got a lotta work to do."

"Me too," Steve said with a small smile. "Whole gallery show to set up. You can see it when we're done, if you want."

"I was planning to come," Tony said with a yawn. "The day after that, I'm gonna try the reactor out, too."

"Good, that...that's so good. I'm glad. Goodnight, Tony," Steve said, falling asleep as he spoke. Tony watched him for awhile, making sure his slowly rising and falling breaths were consistent and even.

Then he crawled up onto the other man's chest, just above his heartbeat, and fell asleep with a soft sigh.

...

The next week had all three men and the kitten in a tizzy; Jarvis had been mousing out the crevices of the old house, (saving them quite a bit on cat food, thankfully), and squishing all the spiders in the attic. Bucky was down at the shop, repairing a rickety old vintage Cadillac; it was almost impossible, but the man had promised to pay an enormous sum of money if he did, and so he was pulling all-nighters in an attempt to fiddle with it, bringing home pictures of the engine and debating how best to repair it with Tony.

Tony himself was fussing over the arc reactor; Bucky had managed to pick up a shipment of palladium that had been intended for repairing a hybrid car that the owner had ended up totaling anyway; he swiped a bit and brought it to Tony, who had managed to get the arc reactor going better and better with only less than half a milligram of the stuff.

Steve was busy, but less so with groundbreaking scientific developments and moreso on where best to put his art to best show off the atmosphere of the room.

Still, it was a surprisingly difficult job, not helped in the least by his latest distraction; as it was, all he could think about was Tony, and what the other man was doing, and how his work was going. If it was love, he was getting exhausted from it.

Even though he was more worn-out than he could say when he got home, and Bucky sometimes fell asleep at the table, and Tony didn't even have the energy to tease Steve's artwork, somehow either Steve or Bucky put food on the table and made sure Tony was eating and sleeping, too.

The week flew by, and finally, Steve was loading up the pickup truck and yelling for Bucky and Tony to hurry up, they had twenty minutes to get there and it was a fifteen-minute drive without traffic.

Bucky hurried out, Tony clinging to his arm; Steve proffered his hand, which Tony leapt into with a sense of catlike dignity and satisfaction. Steve smiled. He had looked so hesitant when either man touched him at first, but he had grown comfortable with Steve stroking his hair or picking him up when he needed it. Knowing Tony trusted him to hold him twisted Steve's stomach into funny little knots that didn't untangle, even as they pulled up to the gallery.

"Huh," Tony remarked, poking his head up over the dashboard and peeking out the window. "It's pretty big."

"Yeah, this is kind of a big deal. Biggest art gallery in town; the director said that even the big art critics from the city north of here come to take a look!" Steve said, practically glowing with excitement. Tony huffed and gave him a look of amusement.

"You're gonna freak out before we even get in there. Don't worry, really," he said. "I'm sure you'll do fine. Even if your pictures are all blurry."

"It was an Impressionist landscape!" Steve defended himself, but he was smiling nonetheless as Tony looked the two of them over.

"So, uh...not for nothing, boys, but how do you intend to hide me in here again?" Tony asked. Steve gestured to the pocket on the front of his suit jacket.

"I cut a little slit in it," he said, sheepish. "It's old, so don't worry about it. You can hide in there and peek out when you want."

Tony nodded, letting Steve pick him up and settle him in, looking out from the slit. He had a decent view, and on top of that, Steve felt warm. He could hear his heartbeat resonating, his chest expanding and making the fabric shift as he and Bucky stood, and as Tony snuggled up in his pocket and waited for them to go inside, he had never felt safer.


	8. Art

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve's art show happens, as does a conversation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sap and sweet fluff and some minor sadness. The story is almost coming to an end!

The art gallery wasn't large on the outside, but from within, it was spacious; a low sloping room gave Tony the feeling he was living inside a seashell. Steve was beaming, wringing his hands with excitement as he and Bucky entered. There were already a few people milling about; Steve approached the most important looking one with a grin. She regarded him with a thin smile. Steve was just beaming, looking around with a huge-eyed expression of awe.

"So, what do you think?" He said to Bucky—and Tony, he knew, but the other man understandably would not reply. "This is Bernie Rosenthal. She helped me out."

"It's a pleasure, ma'am," Bucky said, bowing and taking her hand for a second, grinning rakishly up at her.

"Hmm; a bit of humor and spice to this place," she said with a tiny smile in reply. "I've been giving Mona Lisa smiles to stuffed suits all day."

Steve and Bucky both laughed. Bernie just gestured to Steve's art. "But this, Steven; my god, they love it. They love you. Turn on that farmboy charm, babe. You'll have them eating from your hand in no time."

Steve blushed and nodded, hanging his head a bit. "Thank you, Bernie. I'm glad. This is the opportunity I've been waiting for."

"See, like that, just like that!" Bernie enthused, ruffling his hair. "C'mon, swap some names around and that sentence'll keep you going straight through the cocktails. Let's go see the artwork, Steve."

Steve beamed and followed her, Bucky in tow. As he did, he murmured, "Don't worry. You're gonna love it," so quietly Tony knew it was meant only for him to hear.

...

Tony didn't know what he felt. Not at first.

He _was_ feeling, though. That, he was sure, Steve would be proud of. It didn't stop him from being confused beyond belief at some of the paintings. Some of them were oceans and forests; fine, that Tony knew. Then others were just...paint.

"This one is called _Pulp Love,_ " Steve explained to the assembled patrons. "I painted it thinking about love; not familial or even romantic, but...fairy-tale love. Something we find ridiculous in this day and age; campy, like pulp novels. But it can still exist, and still be beautiful, which I hope the painting conveys."

This wasn't the shy, sweet Steve he knew; this was a Steve who had been doused in passion and set aflame. It was catching; Tony could see the sparks of interest crackling merrily in the eyes of the other patrons. 

When Steve moved from painting to painting, he stalked like a lion seeking prey, his head high and his hair gleaming gold. Tony just watched, looking out at all the paintings before he realized Steve had come to a little group of them.

"These are ones I painted very recently," he explained. "They're about the forest near my house...and, well, what I imagine might live in it."

Tony stared in utter shock at something that wasn't quite him.

It was close. The eyes gave it away to him—and Bucky, who raised his eyebrows, impressed—but the rest was...more ethereal. Like someone had carved him out of air and electricity. Wings of spider-silk sprouted from his back, and he wore a circlet of silver; from its center pulsed the reactor, crackling with energy. 

He looked beautiful. He looked inhuman. And he looked...he looked like Steve loved him.

Tony didn't know how he knew, but looking at that painting, he felt it. It was like Steve said; he just felt the emotions, even when the pieces weren't all perfect. He...he liked it better that way, even. Neither of them were perfect...but Steve loved him. 

The paintings weren't perfect, but they were made with love, with something behind them. That mattered, Tony saw. That was what had made people come to see him; that was what had given them the eagerness that he saw when Steve spoke about the paintings. The things just underneath the canvas.

Tony suddenly felt terribly, horribly inadequate.

He curled up in Steve's pocket, not even attempting to speak to the other man; he wanted to close his eyes and refuse to look, but he found as he kept going and Steve walked him through all his paintings, that he couldn't keep his eyes off of them.

...

The trio managed to make their way out of the gallery around midnight, their eyes glassy and huge grins on their faces.

"Goddamn," Bucky said, beaming. "Did he really buy that for fifteen grand?"

"Yeah, he did! And he wants to see the rest of my collection, and he wants me to come work at his studio, and, and—oh my god, it'll be _amazing_ , we'll just—I don't know what we'll do, but we'll figure something out later, just right now, _oh my god_ —"

Tony didn't say anything the entire ride home. He could hear Steve's heart hammering with excitement. He didn't know what to do.

He was going to move away and leave him. But...he loved him. Right? The paintings weren't wrong. Or was _he?_ What...what now? 

Tony buried his face into his arms and began to whimper, unable to stop himself. 

It didn't matter, he realized. It was okay if he cried. No one was around to make fun of him, like before. Or yell at him, like dad. He could cry. He was small, too small for Steve to take notice of him.

Tony cried the whole way home without knowing quite why.

"I'm gonna go get a case of beer and some ice cream," Bucky decided as they pulled into the driveway. "You go on in and make something else to eat, 'kay? We're gonna celebrate."

"Got it," Steve said, hugging Bucky tight. "Thanks for coming with me. I love you, Bucky."

"Love you too, bro," Bucky said, his voice warm as he ruffled Steve's hair. Tony was pressed between them, his tears burning as he felt the pressure of their embrace.

Steve got out and waved him off before making his way inside, his steps quiet. Jarvis bounced eagerly around his feet when he came in; Steve ruffled his fur with gentle care before making his way into the kitchen.

Tony felt a hand being offered to him up out of the darkness. He knew he shouldn't talk to him with tear tracks on his face, but he had no choice to take it. So he did, letting Steve lift him up and hold him steady.

"You cried the whole way home," Steve said, and Tony froze. "I knew, but I didn't want to ask why in front of Bucky. It...it hurt, to hear it. And feel it, too."

Tony's entire body had gone numb. Steve had known? Steve had heard him cry, and he had been...it had hurt him...?

"Did you not like that I used you as a model? I'm sorry, I didn't think you would like my art...I was embarrassed," Steve confessed. "I know it's not an exact likeness, but I figured I was just adding a bit of artistic license. It was symbolic, I suppose."

"No, that...that wasn't it," Tony mumbled. "I mean, it...it was beautiful."

Steve beamed, and Tony's heart twisted and throbbed with pain at the sight. He was so damn happy. Tony didn't want to ruin that, not for anything. The sight of Steve happy only reminded him that the other man loved him, and he didn't know what to do about that.

He sighed. "I just, it...it got me thinking."

"Well, that's what art is supposed to do," Steve said as he started the stove, putting three hamburgers down on the pan. "What did you think about?"

"I just...I don't..." Tony sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I'm a failure, Steve."

Steve dropped the spatula, turning to him wide-eyed. 

"Are you _nuts?_ " Steve said, incredulous. "You, a failure? You built something that human engineers still don't know how to make with _scraps!_ Tony, I fling paint on a canvas!"

 _"It's more than that!_ " Tony shouted, and Steve fell silent. "It's more than that and _you know it!_ Don't say that!"

Steve was quiet for another minute, tending to dinner. Then he sighed.

"Okay," he agreed, "sorry. But that's what you thought, right?"

"I did," Tony replied, heaving a sigh. "But...those paintings were so real. They...there was something _more_ to them. Something I wasn't seeing before. But...listening to you talk about them made me realize it. You just care so much, and it's so important to you...and that matters."

"Yeah, it does," Steve agreed with a nod. "But this isn't a zero-sum game, Tony. What you love is just as important as I love. Didn't you do this because of love?"

"Of _myself,"_ Tony said bitterly. "Because I wanted to be _big_ , I wanted to prove all of them wrong, I wanted to prove _dad_ wrong, you didn't need to leave for love! You could make it fine on your own! But—but I don't want to anymore."

Steve sighed, running a single finger through his hair. Tony closed his eyes and took in his touch before looking back up at him.

"So, I mean...I love the reactor, sure. But...you didn't make those paintings because you loved yourself. You painted them because...you love other things," Tony finished lamely, unsure of how to add _because you love me_ without taking the conversation's direction for a sudden, awkward turn.

"But the desire to create came from both of us," Steve said, his voice gentle. "You might not see it, but you made that reactor because you love to create, too. And I think you've changed, Tony. If you were ever a person that only loved yourself...well, I think you've moved beyond that."

"Thanks," Tony murmured with a sigh. "I guess...I just don't want the reactor to be a letdown after tonight."

"It won't be," Steve promised him, finishing up the burger patties and putting them on buns. "After all, you made it. Whether it makes you big or not, I'm sure it's going to be astounding."

Steve's faith in him made Tony smile. He took the other man's finger for a second, and he was overcome with the feeling from before; the feeling he had gotten when he looked at the art. 

Something swelled up inside him, growing and expanding.

Tony ignored it, his face reddening slightly, and let Steve bring him and the burgers outside to Bucky, a case of beer in one hand and two cartons of neapolitan in the other. The three of them sat outside in the warm summer air, the night falling around them like a blanket. The stars were settling on their shoulders in a lover's embrace that hid them in the skirts of the dusk as they ate and talked and laughed, content. 

Tony's tears had dried up, and now he sat in Steve's lap, perched on one thigh and leaning against his stomach just a bit, feeling it move up and down slowly and being reminded every time that this man was alive, that this man loved him.

The feeling began to bloom. Tony just let it. The only way he had to say he loved him back was to acknowledge it, and he certainly didn't need to do that.


	9. Magic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The last chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm very bad about posting final chapters, my apologies. Hope you all loved this fic; I did! It was a break from the relentless pain of some of my other fics, so...  
> It's a very schmoopy fairy tale love, but then again, that's what this is.

Eventually, sometime around when the sun split the sky, the men all decided to go to bed; Bucky ruffled Steve's hair and murmured something that might've been congratulations if he wasn't trying to speak after five beers before making his way into his room.

"So, tomorrow then," Steve said to Tony as they made their way down the hall.

"After Bucky gets over his hangover," Tony replied. "I need him."

"After Bucky gets over his hangover," Steve agreed with a laugh. "Sounds fine by me. I'm so excited."

Tony couldn't help but grin as the two of them got ready for bed; Steve showered and dresed in his pajamas as Tony checked the reactor before climbing up the covers to sit on the bed.

"You really are, huh?" Tony said, amused. Steve nodded.

"Yes, of course," he replied. "Tony, I know this is going to come out great. I'm so proud of you. No matter what happens."

Tony let Steve stroke his hair once more before he sighed. 

"Thanks, y'know," he mumbled. "For believing in me, I mean. It's nice to have support."

"You deserve it," Steve said, his voice earnest as he climbed into bed. "I believe in you, Tony. We'll be fine. You just get some rest, okay?"

Tony nodded, watching the other man sink into bed as the sun spilled in through the window, catching fire on his hair and turning it lion gold.

"Goodnight," Tony whispered to him as he continued to sleep, his lips soft and his breathing making Tony's heart beat faster. "Goodnight. Thanks for everything."

Steve didn't reply, but Tony didn't mind. One more excuse not to acknowledge the feeling in his chest.

He curled up beside the reactor that night. He couldn't bear to be near Steve's heart.

...

The next morning, Bucky was chugging half the coffeepot in a few slugs when Steve and Tony entered the kitchen.

"I'll need you to help me with a few final tune-ups," Tony said. "Whenever you're ready, of course."

Bucky grunted. Tony would take that to mean 'in a few minutes.' He just grinned and took a piece of his doughnut, waiting eagerly as he nibbled, excitement filling him up.

"When you get big," Steve promised, "we'll cook a much bigger breakfast for you, I promise."

"I'd like that," Tony said with a grin. "You ever cook, Steve?"

"A bit," Steve replied, "and I'd try to learn for you. Hopefully I won't burn the eggs too bad, huh?"

Tony looked up at the man smiling down at him and closed his eyes for a second, shaking his head.

"Nah, I don't think so," he said. "You're careful."

Steve beamed and set about to taking out the carton of eggs, a block of cheese, and a thick loaf of bread for toast. Tony nibbled on the rest of his doughnut until finally, Bucky set his coffee down and said, "All right, let's get this done quick. If Tony's big by mid-afternoon, we can hit the beach."

"Awesome," Tony said, "so long as one of you has a spare bathing suit."

"You can borrow one of Steve's," Bucky said with a teasing grin. 

Steve punched him in the arm.

The three of them headed upstairs, the two men pushing back the dresser as Tony entered his house, climbing down into the lab and hooking up the chestpiece. He was in the process of attaching it when the dresser was pushed away; he waved up at Steve and Bucky as he finished putting it on.

"What do you plan to do?" Bucky asked, leaning down to look at the reactor, where it sat humming contentedly, glowing as bright as it always had. Tony tapped the chestplate.

"Hope this spurs my brain and muscles to start growing through electric shocks," Tony said. "Nothing too extreme, I don't plan on getting fried. Set it to its lowest power, Bucky. We'll start from there."

Bucky nodded, hooking the reactor cables up to the machine Tony had built to control it; he pressed the button for the lowest setting as Steve looked on, his stomach churning with worry.

For a second, nothing happened. 

Then sparks began to race along the cables, jolting the chestplate and making Tony yelp, his whole body spasming in pain as the electricity coursed through his systems. 

 _"No!"_ Steve cried, grasping for him; Bucky held him back.

"Relax, he's gonna be fine," he promised. "Anything going on, Tony?"

"Nothing yet! A bit more power!" Tony called.

"Please don't, _please don't_ , Bucky please, _Tony—_ "

Bucky shushed him and squeezed his hand as he upped the power.

"Steve, he'll be fine," Bucky promised. "Don't be scared of the reactor. He's not going to be hurt, I promise. Just let him do this. It's his dream."

Steve bit his cheek and held his tongue when Tony upped the power again, and then again. He closed his eyes at one point, wishing only he could block out the sounds of Tony howling in pain every time a shock coursed through him.

"Oh, for god's sake," Tony said, moving Bucky's finger away from the controls and slamming his hands down. "Nothing's working! Full power!"

"Tony, wait, that's a lot of juice—" Bucky warned him, but Tony paid him no heed.

"The suit's insulated, I'll be fine!" He promised, slamming down on the button.

For a second, the reactor continued to purr, evidently unheeding of its master's command.

Then electricity began to course through the cables and the entire chestplate, smoking wildly as the crackling blue light consumed the plate, burning Tony and making him scream.

 _"Enough!"_ Steve screamed, ripping the cables out of the chestplate and grabbing Tony in his hand, yanking him up and ripping the chestplate clean off. " _No more, Tony! No more!"_

The entire room was silent. Steve felt sick to his stomach at the sight of the raw skin on Tony's bare chest as he lay in his palm, his abused flesh shining bright red.

"Please," Steve whispered, "please, Tony, just give up. It won't work. The arc reactor's beautiful, but it can't make you big."

Tony turned away from him in tears. Steve shushed him, soft and soothing, and stroked his hair. 

"Ssh, it's all right," Steve promised, his tone gentle. "We'll find some other way. You made the reactor, Tony, surely that's something to be proud of?"

"I didn't do enough," Tony said, his voice raw and rough. "I didn't...I didn't...I didn't make myself big."

"Tony, there's always—"

"No, Steve!" Tony shouted, standing up and biting back a wince of pain. "It's not like your art! I can't just paint another picture! This was all I _had!_ This was the reason I left the forest! This was—this was what I wanted, this whole time! This was my _dream!_ You can't just—you can't just find a new dream!"

Steve was quiet, letting Tony have a minute to sit in his palm and sob, his tears soft as they made him shudder and spasm.

"I know," Steve said, his voice sweet and comforting as he lifted Tony up so they were eye level. "You're right, Tony. You can't. But you know something?"

Tony stared at him, awaiting an answer with wide, hopeful eyes.

"You can find a new way to accomplish your dreams," Steve said. "Even if it isn't the way you wanted to get there, what matters is that you get there. Right?"

"I guess," Tony said, sullen. Steve smiled.

"Sure is. And sometimes, the path you thought you'd never take isn't as bad as it seems. Right?"

"I...I hope so," Tony said, his voice soft. "I mean, what am I going to do now, then?"

Steve didn't think of consequences or the aftermath or anything like that. He only saw the man before him, and when he did, it gave him an idea.

"Trust me," Steve said. 

Then he kissed him.

It was hard to do, admittedly; Tony's entire head was small enough that he could nuzzle his forehead against Steve's lips. But it was the idea behind it, the love that hid beneath the confines of the touch, that Tony felt as he kissed him. 

For a second, Tony was silent, shocked. Steve hedged, his whole body trembling with hesitation, and made to pull away.

Before he could, Tony kissed him back. 

His lips were tiny enough that Steve felt it the way he would feel the brush of a feather, soft and light. Still, the idea behind it; the love Steve finally felt, just beneath his touch, that was enough to make the other man smile, delighted.

Once more, for a second, nothing happened.

Without warning, Tony began to glow.

He shimmered with the magic bubbling around him in bright, forest-green baubles that bobbed around him, before abruptly popping and spilling over him, obscuring Tony from sight beneath their glow. 

Steve closed his eyes at the bright light, and when he did, he felt the lack of Tony's weight remaining in his palm. He cried out in panic, before the light that still bubbled even behind his eyelids faded, and he could open his eyes again to find Tony standing before him.

"You're _big,_ " Steve said in awe at the same time as Bucky said, "You're _naked."_

"Right on both counts," Tony replied, a grin on his face.

The three of them stared at each other in silence. A few beats passed as they took in the sight of Tony; he was average human sized, and the burns on his chest completely healed, but aside from that, nothing about him had changed. Once they had realized this, they still remained silent, as if daring someone else to speak.

"I promise not to tell anyone the magic worked if you don't," Steve finally said, a huge smile on his face as he shook his head.

Tony punched him in the arm.

Steve laughed, delight bubbling up like the borrower's magic as he pulled Tony close and kissed him again; this time, their lips met and meshed as equals, and Tony's breath was hot and sweet as his tongue delved eagerly into Steve's mouth.

"I'll just go get the cooler packed, then," Bucky said, to no one in particular. Certainly not his friends, who were still firmly entrenched in the throes of passion, too much in love to mind much about the beach.

Bucky rolled his eyes and smiled, going for the door to give them some peace.

When Steve pulled away, he looked into Tony's eyes to see the other man's love, honest and shining bright.

"I'm sorry," Steve said. "That I never...I never noticed, I mean. I didn't think you'd love me back."

"I admit, the idea scared me at first," Tony confessed. "Y'know. Dad and all. I didn't want to prove him right—that borrowers could only get big because of a lover or something like that."

Tony sighed and ran a hand through his hair, shaking his head.

"He was wrong, and they're wrong," Tony said. "I didn't get like this just so I could be with you, for my own selfish reasons. I didn't get big for my sake. I did it...I did it for your sake. So you could be happy. And that's the trick, I think. That's what makes it different. That I did it for you."

Steve beamed, tears running down his face, joy and relief mingling in rivers that ran across his skin. Tony wiped them away as he hugged him close.

"I knew," he said. "I knew you loved me, and I loved you too, once I saw sense. I mean, how could I not?"

Steve blushed and grinned, shy. Tony kissed his forehead and smiled. An idea occurred to Steve then; he jumped, before kneeling to pick up the arc reactor.

"When you accomplish your dream," Steve said, pressing it into Tony's hands, "you make a new one, right?"

"Yeah," Tony said. "A new one that's gonna make us a hell of a lot of money."

"Oh, god," Steve groaned. "Promise me we won't move."

"We won't move. We'll just buy other houses," Tony said. 

Steve actually laughed at that, leaning in so they could cuddle, bumping foreheads and holding one another as they fell onto the bed, Steve holding Tony down and smiling at him, like he was the only thing that existed.

"We're going to make a life together, you and I," Steve told him, stroking his hair. "We're creators. It's what we do. If we focus that on our lives, then I think...I think we can be forever, Tony."

"That sounds...perfect," Tony said, his throat going tight. "No, wait. Better than perfect. It sounds like...it sounds like home."

"It will be," Steve agreed, leaning down for another kiss. "I will be. I promise. The two of us together—that's home. We can work out all the details later."

"Right," Tony agreed. "And we will. After a trip to the beach."

"After a trip to the beach," Steve replied with a smile. "And after you put on some clothes."

Tony grumbled, but he put on the swim trunks Steve tossed him without further complaint. 

The two of them prepared a hasty bag of towels and clothes for the beach, Steve tossing a few paperbacks into their bag as they went downstairs to join Bucky. He hefted the cooler up in one hand, high-fiving Tony with the other.

"So, we're good," Bucky said. "Beach trip?"

"Beach trip," Tony agreed. "The rest we can worry about later. For now, we're together. We're definitely good."

Bucky nodded, tossing the cooler, an umbrella, and their bag of clothes into the bed of the pickup truck. Steve got in the car, and Tony went to follow after him until he stopped at the edge of the driveway, staring at the forest. 

For a long time, he just looked at his old home, not speaking. 

"Tony! You coming?" Steve called, waving to him. Tony started, jumping to attention before nodding, running down the driveway to climb into the pickup, snuggling against Steve as he got in and Bucky started the car.

As Bucky tore his way down the driveway and through the town, a few seagulls following in the wake of the car, Steve asked, "Why were you looking at the forest, Tony?"  
Tony shrugged, staying silent for a few minutes. Steve was patient; he sat and waited for a reply.

"...I dunno," Tony said. "What do I do now? That's not my home anymore, or my life. I'm...human, I guess. So what's going to happen next?"

Steve smiled and took his hand, squeezing it tight before leaning in for a kiss. Tony kissed him back, a feeling of contentment stealing over him and settling over his doubts, like the ocean washing away old footprints in the sand.

Steve pulled away and cupped the back of his head, meeting his gaze. Tony squeezed his hand like a lifeline.

"We'll make our own magic," Steve said, and Tony had never been happier.


End file.
